Part 12: The Slaying of Arjasp

When the night grew darker, Esfandiar put on his fresh armor for battle. He threw open the lids of the chests, seeking a way to free those who were captive. He brought out roasted meat, wine, and drink, and also the war garments to be worn. When they had eaten, each was given three cups of wine, and they grew merry with it. He said: Tonight is a night full of danger; it is fitting that we win a name here. Fight hard and battle like men, and take refuge from all perils in God. Then he divided his warriors into three groups, all of them men who sought honor and combat. One group he set inside the fortress, to do battle with everyone there. Another was to press toward the gate of the citadel and not rest from fighting and shedding blood. To the third group of proud warriors he said: You must find the signs of them, those who were drunk with us last night on wine; cut their heads down low with your daggers. He himself, with twenty of the boldest heroes, went swiftly, leaving the rest their tasks. He came boldly to Arjasp's court, wearing his mail and roaring like a lion. When the din of blows rose from the palace gate, Homay ran forward before the noble women. With her sister Be-Afrid at her side, her face hidden beneath tears of blood. When Esfandiar came close, he saw the two veiled women, lovely as early spring. The lionhearted man said to his sisters: Hurry away from here as fast as dust rides the wind, to the place that is my marketplace; there is much gold and silver, and it is my station. Do not stay with me on this battlefield, whether I lose my head or take the crown. With an Indian blade in his fist he advanced, and killed every warrior he saw. His whole court became such that there was no path left in that famous hall, so many were the wounded, the slain, and the trampled that the ground was like a raging sea. When Arjasp woke from sleep, his heart filled with dread at the uproar. Arjasp sprang up from his place, put on his quilted armor and a Roman helmet. A gleaming dagger in his hand, his mouth full of shouting, his heart full of blood. He said to him: From this merchant you shall now receive a sword and a heap of gold coin. I bring you a gift worthy of Lohrasp, stamped with the seal of Goshtasp. Arjasp and Esfandiar closed in combat, and their fighting passed all bounds. Again and again they struck with sword and dagger, sometimes at the waist, sometimes at the head. He wore Arjasp down with wounds; not a whole spot could be seen on his body. His elephant-like body collapsed to the ground, and Esfandiar cut his head from his shoulders. When the tormented Arjasp was slain, a great wailing rose from the women's palace. Such is the way of the turning world: sometimes we taste honey from it, sometimes poison. Why bind your heart to this fleeting inn? When you know you cannot stay here, do not grieve. Esfandiar finished with Arjasp and raised destruction from the palace up to the heavens. He ordered candles lit, and they burned them all around the hall. He handed Arjasp's harem over to a servant and carried off not a single thread from that place. He set his seal on the treasury of gold coins; no one in the hall could stand against him. He came to the stable and mounted, an Indian blade gripped in his hand. From those Arab horses he chose the finest and ordered a saddle put on it. A hundred and sixty men set out from there, chosen riders for the day of battle. He mounted his sisters on horses too, and led the army out from Arjasp's court. A number of famous Iranian men stayed in the citadel with the worthy Saveh. He said: When I go out from here, I myself with the champions will ride to the plain, shut the Turks tight inside the citadel; may good fortune be my ally. Whenever you sense that I have reached that pure-minded gathering, a shout must be raised from the watchtower: Long live the head and crown of King Goshtasp. When the army crowds at the citadel, fleeing and turned back from the battlefield, in victory, from the ramparts of the palace watch, give thanks to holy God. From that watchtower, the head of the king of the Turks must be flung down before the army. He rode out from the citadel with a hundred and sixty men, shouting and seething, toward the field of war. When he reached Peshotan's army, that famous man showered praise upon him. His whole army stood amazed at him, that so young a man had shown such courage.